The Exception
by tired-night-owl
Summary: A young Annie Cresta decides to attend the celebration for the newest victor, but it doesn't quite unfold the way she expects it to. *For Rowan*


Annie Cresta can't recall the last time she's been to a party. There are vague, fleeting recollections of events that her brother or sister or parents held at their house, but nothing that she herself initiated. Nothing that she didn't begrudgingly come downstairs for, exuding a laconic demeanor toward anyone who approached her.

But this time is different. It's the rare exception that ends up changing everything for her. Without a single push from anyone else, Annie decides to follow through with it. She makes her way to the newest addition of the Victor's Village.

The ten o'clock sky has dimmed almost to a pitch black, leaving only a silhouette of the street signs that guide the girl to her destination. She fumbles with the hem of her skirt as her feet shuffle along the concrete road. Echoes surround her at every corner, coming from people heading in her general direction. But Annie doesn't have to focus too intently to know what subject the discussions entail. Ever since the reaping of the 65th Hunger Games, there's nothing else that the district was remotely concerned about. Just topics encompassing the Games.

Gossip regarding the partners from Four—Talia Fuster and Finnick Odair.

Snippets of the other twenty-two tributes, especially the additional five that merged as the Career alliance.

A daily recap each night, hypothesizing who would live and who would perish.

The betrayal in the hands of Midas from District One, who left Talia with a knife prodded through her heart.

A final battle of retribution, where Midas met the same fate as his previous kill. Except, of course, with a trident in lieu of the knife. And the tribute's limp body wrapped in a fishing net. No one can forget that part.

Now, things are inevitably centered around Finnick's victory. He's the youngest victor to date, just a year older than Annie. A fourteen-year-old champion is next to impossible in typical circumstances. Most of the Careers around his age are the first sacrifices of the more aged tributes. Yet Finnick has defied this stereotype. And the Capitol has gone wild.

Annie immediately recognizes the origin of the party by its ajar door with the clusters of people crowded around the opening. She tiptoes up the driveway and hopes not to draw much attention to herself. Her small stature allows her to pass by the group easily.

Then, she is able to get a better glance at the inside of Finnick's new home. She loses her breath for a few brief seconds before she can regain her consciousness. Annie can't even call this place a house without feeling like something's missing. It's too complex for that. Even in an affluent district like Four, she hasn't seen anything as ostentatious as this _mansion_ at Victor's Village. Plastered on the walls are designs from ancient cultures, centuries away from the world as Annie knows it. The banister of the staircases is the hue of pure gold, far unlike the one in her own house. There isn't a single smudge on the floor. She watches her every movement, truly considering herself in a sacred place.

"Mom and Dad didn't think you were gonna come."

Her moments of observation are cut short by the distinct voice of her older brother, Marco. She faces him, seemingly 'caught in the act'. She tries to form the words to respond. It just goes to show how inexperienced she is, Annie decides.

Marco continues to speak.

"You never go to parties! What in Panem are you doing here?" She can't evade this question, so she answers with the first thing that comes to mind.

"I don't know."

Her brother gives her a blank stare, before he concedes and tells her, "Whatever. Mom and Dad are downstairs."

But Annie doesn't go looking for them. Instead, she meanders around the main level until she comes across a sight that she can't forget. In the dining room, she encounters six Capitolites with libations in their hands. They're hovered around something—Annie can see from the distance she's at. The girl moves a few feet closer. Being locked in the embrace of a green-haired, yellow-skinned woman is none other than the host of this party. This stranger presses her lips against Finnick's lips. They have to be at least twenty years apart, especially considering the extensive plastic surgery in the Capitol. An inexplicable pang of nausea hits Annie. She moves away from the scene.

For the next two hours, it's as if the entire party is stuck in a time warp. It's the same incessant screams over and over again. Girls who go to Annie's school—girls she could never find herself acquainted with—shove notebooks and pens in Finnick's face, begging for his autograph. Cameras flash ten times every minute. Eventually, it becomes too overwhelming for Annie.

She creeps out of the back door. The noise diminishes as she moves farther and farther to the beach, though not fully alleviated. She wades into the beginnings of the ocean. Only her feet are covered by the salt water. Annie concentrates solely on the sound of the waves meeting the shore. It diminishes the anxieties from a type of environment she's barely familiar with.

The ocean can fix almost anything.

Then, Annie notices him. He's sitting with a bundle of rope wrapped in his hands, slightly illuminated by the full moon in the night sky. It's at this moment that she realizes something. Although Finnick Odair is the only thing the nation can think about, she's never personally met him. All she knows about him are from secondhand sources: rumors circulating around the district, his interviews in the Capitol, even viewing him from afar earlier in the night. Now, she's just a mere few feet away from the _victor_ of this year's Hunger Games.

"Finnick Odair?" Annie's voice squeaks as these two words form on her lips. His sea-green eyes meet her own pair. They harbor a peculiar expression, far contrasting the seductive look everyone's familiar with. It's a look of surprise, and maybe even fear.

A curse slips out of his mouth before he says, "Someone was gonna find me out here sooner or later."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It doesn't matter. It's not like I didn't expect it."

"Now I feel bad," Annie responds.

"Stop apologizing. You didn't do anything." Annie feels her face redden, and she becomes tongue-tied. Why is it so hard to say the right thing in front of him? "What's your name, anyway?"

She takes a pause before replying, "Annie Cresta."

Finnick ponders the name.

"Annie Cresta…. I don't believe I've met you."

"I—I don't go to the Academy." This is Annie's first intuition, the first thing she thinks to tell him. A frown emerges on his face upon hearing this.

"You wanna know a secret, Annie Cresta?" He then lowers his voice and adds, " _I've had a lot of practice sharing them._ " She doesn't understand what he means by that last part, nor does she want to understand it. Some things are just better unsaid.

But she is slightly curious about the first part.

"What is it?"

"The Academy isn't what you think. It's not a walk in the park." Finnick's tone becomes harsher as he proceeds with the next sentence. "You're told you have to be number one. You can't stop until everyone around you is satisfied. For me, that was when I won the Hunger Games. But there's no breaks. Tying these knots—" he says, gesturing at his hands, "—is one of the few things that keeps me from going crazy, believe it or not."

Annie's eyes have been widened the whole time, processing each word that he is telling her.

"I had no idea, Finnick."

"Yeah," he answers. "There's a whole part of being victor that they don't tell you. And you know why I'm telling you all this?"

"Why?"

"Because you're treating me like I'm normal. I remember seeing you back inside, Annie Cresta. But you weren't going all paparazzi on me. You weren't screaming my name or standing a foot away from me. And frankly, that's kinda nice."

Finnick flashes her a smile. They sit in a moment of silence. There are only two sounds surrounding them: the crash of the ocean, and the faint voices of the night—mostly coming from the Victor's Village.

In this solitude, Annie mulls over one specific thing that Finnick has revealed: _There's a whole part of being victor that they don't tell_ you.

Little does she know that the tables will turn in just five years' time.


End file.
